


Details in the Fabric

by cheinsaw



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Developing Relationship, Dolls, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheinsaw/pseuds/cheinsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being accepted into a local dollmaking competition, Alice bars Marisa from contacting her outside of school in the hopes that it'll help her focus. Marisa knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Details in the Fabric

**Author's Note:**

> i chose to place this in the same continuity as Polished, with this fic set about a year before.

Alice hasn't been acting like herself lately. Even she has to admit it — her usually-neat room is a complete mess, with fabric everywhere and bits of cotton batting strewn across the floor. Crinkled plastic wrappers from packages of clay are scattered next to a large pile of library books. This is not Alice. This is… a disaster.

The phone resting on the desk flickers, signaling a notification. Sighing, Alice decides to take a short break, just to see who's trying to contact her, at least. A quick swipe at the screen reveals, thankfully, not too much. A few likes on the photo of her workspace she'd posted on her blog, along with a weather update promising rain. And a text message, of _course_ , from Marisa: _yo alice whats up????_

Alice sets the phone down again, turning the screen off. Marisa. Of course Marisa would try to talk to her — it was practically inevitable. Alice doesn't know why she had thought she could get away with not texting Marisa all day. Though, on the other hand, Marisa should know by now that if Alice isn't talking, it means she needs her space, for work reasons or otherwise.

This time it's work. Alice, despite her age, has finally talked her way into competing in the regional dollmakers' competition, something she's dreamed of since she first began sewing. The rules mandate that she's to make a specifically-themed porcelain-and-cloth doll, completely from scratch and entirely by herself. She's spent the better part of the day crafting molds for the limbs and sewing the doll's soft torso, stopping only when her fingers began to ache. Then she'd pick out tentative fabric and lace choices from her collection for the doll's dress and bonnet. Alice has plans. Alice has big plans.

 _Hey_ , she types to Marisa, then deletes it. Too casual, after not talking to Marisa in several hours. _Sorry_ , she tries. _I've been busy working._ That should do it.

Marisa's reply comes only a minute later. _oh yeah the doll thing!!! cool hows it goin_

 _It's going fine._ Alice runs her teeth over her lower lip, trying to figure out how to respond. _Today was only preliminary things. Tomorrow I'll be sculpting the head._

_lol youre gonna skip for that? metal_

_I am absolutely not skipping school._ Yet another reason Marisa infuriates Alice on a daily basis is her disrespect for her education. While Alice tries her best to maintain a solid A average, Marisa doesn't seem to even care if she graduates or not. It's such a waste, especially when Marisa's so smart but would rather play Tony Hawk than do any of her classwork. Just the thought makes Alice feel like she's getting an ulcer.

_yknow id skip with you if you wanna chill_

_I'm honored, but no._ Alice sends the message, then decides it sounds wrong and quickly types out another. _You know I don't skip school, especially for my hobbies. I have this all under control._ And she does, she's sure.

 

Alice is tidying her locker shelf before her first class when a heavy weight suddenly presses down on her arm and shoulder from behind, nearly knocking her off balance. "Yo! How's it goin?"

"Marisa," Alice says, trying to keep her face from doing that ridiculous blushing thing it tries to do whenever Marisa's around. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Marisa grins, showing off the gap between her front teeth. "Yeah, but I figured I'd check in on ya first. Doll thing going good?"

"I told you it's under control."

"So it's a disaster. Gotcha."

Alice shuts her locker, cradling the books for her next two classes in her arms. "Excellent listening comprehension. Maybe you need to have your ears checked again."

"Thanks, I try. No, but like—" The first warning bell for first period cuts Marisa off midsentence. "Oops. Gotta fuck off. See ya, Alice!" Then Marisa's gone, disappearing into a sea of high school students.

Honestly.

The doll weighs on Alice's mind for most of the morning. The competition's theme for this round is Victorian style, so Alice is trying to draw inspiration from Lolita fashion and internet goth subcultures. At the very least, it'll set her apart from the competition, mostly old women who have been retired for ages. Alice is the youngest dollmaker to enter in probably forty years. She sketches dress ideas in the margins of her class notes, and thinks up potential Victorian names. By the time her lunch break rolls around, she's settled on calling the doll Marguerite, and she's nearly forgotten about Marisa's earlier comments.

Alice calmly sits at her usual spot in the cafeteria, content with reading over her history notes until Marisa drops herself gracelessly across the table. "Hey. Got any good shit in there today?" Without even looking up, Alice extracts a small chocolate bar from her lunchbox and places it next to Marisa. "Thanks! So, like I was sayin' earlier, about the doll—"

Alice raises her eyes. "The doll is not an issue."

"Yeah, I know, but you have, like, what, a week and a half?" Marisa tears open the chocolate wrapper with her teeth. "Don't take this the wrong way. You're amazing at this stuff. But like… if you need my help, I'm here."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Means what I said."

"Marisa." Alice sighs and presses her fingers to her temples. "It's fine. It has to be entirely my own creation. No outside help." Not to mention that even if Marisa were allowed to join in, she'd most likely be more of a burden than any kind of assistance.

"No, no, I mean, like…" Marisa squints in concentration. "Remember when you had to do that big research thing for your lit class 'n' you got really weird about it? I'm saying, uh, I can keep you company."

Damn it. She has a point—if Alice isolates herself, which she often does while working, she tends to spiral into anxiety and self-doubt, which is the last thing she needs right before presenting in the competition. Still, Alice hates when Marisa's right about things like this. "I'll be okay. I have a plan. It's just that you absolutely cannot contact me, because I need to focus."

"What am I supposed to _do_ if I can't bug you? Come on, that's just unfair."

"Find a new hobby. And it's not like I wouldn't be seeing you at school. I'm just… dedicating most of my extracurricular time to this for the next two weeks." That should do it.

Thankfully, Marisa just shrugs and says, "A'ight. Have it your way. You hear that Nitori Kawashiro broke her arm in shop yet?"

"I had not. Were you involved?"

"Not this time! Dude, I wasn't even there, I just heard from Sanae." Then Marisa's excitedly babbling about how her morning's been, and how Nitori Kawashiro broke her arm. Alice is glad for the change of subject. All she has to do is follow along and respond like normal, and Marisa will be happy with her.

 

It's Wednesday, a week and two days before the deadline, and Alice is starting to panic. The doll itself is fine. Marguerite has very nice polished limbs attached firmly to her soft torso. Her dress is lovely, a deep, subdued blue, with crisp white accents around the hems. She even has tiny white knee socks and shiny black mary janes. Together, the outfit perfectly complements the rich brunette curls Alice has chosen for her hair. And, of course, Alice has sewn the entire dress the wrong way.

She grits her teeth, rips the seam, tries again. There's still time. Maybe if she uses white thread for the whole piece, she'll be able to see it better. Maybe if she hems the skirt like this, or ruffles the lace like that. There's always still time.

On Friday Alice discovers she has a three-page paper due the day before the competition. It's under control. She drafts an outline while she's waiting for the first coat of paint on Marguerite's face to dry, and does the rest of her homework when she can no longer focus on sewing. Marisa hasn't texted her in four days, which gives Alice just the slightest hint of disappointment. It's fine. She hammers the paper out during lunch and study hall on Monday and Tuesday, and submits it early. Everything is okay. All according to plan.

When Friday morning comes, Alice barely has time to fix her hair and makeup before running out the door. She spent the better part of Thursday night painting Marguerite's facial features, soft grey eyes and pouty coral-colored lips. She's given the doll delicate black lashes and rosy cheeks, lifelike eyebrows and just the slightest dotting of freckles across the nose. It's perfect. It's the best face Alice has ever painted. She left the head up on her bookshelf to dry overnight, and when she gets home, she'll glue on the hair and attach the head to the body. It's the only thing left before Marguerite is competition-ready. Finally, _finally_ , Alice can relax.

There's no sign of Marisa at school all day. Alice never passes her in the hall, and their usual table for lunch stays empty all period. When Alice asks around, no one has seen her, and texting yields only a brief response that Marisa's skipping school to "take the day off". It's unusually brisk for Marisa, and it's making Alice worry more than a bit. Perhaps she's been unfair. Or, worse, she's upset Marisa with her self-imposed solitude. But the doll is done, and by Monday everything can go back to normal. Sweet, sweet normalcy, with all of Marisa's little annoying quirks, Marisa asking for chocolate from Alice's lunch box, Marisa's gap-toothed grin, Marisa making physical contact that Alice pretends to hate.

(She'd never admit it, but she kind of misses Marisa, and it's making her heart ache.)

As Alice arrives back home at the end of the school day, she's ready to work. Once she places all the finishing touches on Marguerite, she can talk to Marisa with a clear mind, and she'll be able to rest easy. The last thing she expects is to nearly faint when she walks into her bedroom to find none other than Marisa Kirisame herself sprawled on the floor. A hundred questions bubble up at once, but the one that slips out of her mouth is, "How the hell did you get in here?"

Marisa rolls over lazily, sitting up and brushing her hair out of her face. "Through the window?"

"It's twenty feet up!"

"...Yeah? I had help."

"I told you—"

"Okay, Alice, I know, but come _on_. You're outta control! I haven't even seen you in days! I'm dying," she groans dramatically.

"The competition is _tomorrow_ , Marisa, please, just let me work for one more day and then you can—"

"No," Marisa says, standing up to meet Alice. Even though Marisa's a good four inches shorter, the set of her eyes is more than enough to make Alice a little nervous. "You're stuck with me."

"I am warning you, you need to get out of my house right now."

"I just want to help!" Marisa hollers. "Y'can't just _do_ this to yourself! You shut everybody out and then you get really sad an' I just…" Tears start to well in the corners of Marisa's eyes, but she quickly blinks them away. "You don't always gotta be alone."

"Marisa," Alice starts, but she's unsure of how to continue. "I… I don't think you understand how important this is to me."

"I know," Marisa mutters.

"I _have_ to do it on my own is the thing…"

"Yeah, but at least let me keep you company! C'mon, Alice, I miss you." The words were clearly meant to sound playful, but Marisa sounds so sincere that Alice is a little taken aback.

"…Fine," Alice says, looking down to hide the blush spreading across her face. "Just don't touch anything."

"You know me!" Marisa says, and pulls Alice into a hug, holding her tight and spinning her around. As they part, Marisa's arm draws back and bumps the side of the bookshelf.

Time stands still for a moment. Alice watches in slow motion as Marguerite's head wobbles and rolls off its little perch, falling to the floor. She tries, on instinct, to dive past Marisa to catch the head, but instead ends up barreling right into Marisa's chest. The doll head shatters.

"N-no," Alice murmurs, her eyes wide.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Marisa says. "Shit. Shit. I can fix it, okay? I can help make a new one or glue it or… somethin'."

Alice begins to tremble. And, after two weeks of stress, she finally bursts into tears. It's ruined. Marguerite can't even enter like this, and there's no time left to make a new head. Alice will be forced to drop out and they'll all laugh at her and never let her enter the competition again. She's vaguely aware of Marisa hugging her again, rubbing her back and apologizing, but all Alice can think to do is cry.

"I'm so sorry, shit. This is all my fault."

"I'm a failure," Alice wails.

Marisa snorts. "You? Sorry, but that's just about the stupidest thing I ever heard in my life."

"B-but I can't enter if I," Alice sniffles. "If she's _broken_."

"It's just the head, right? We got it, don't worry. Uhh, what if you like, said it was abstract or somethin'? Like glue the pieces back together really weird an' say it's social commentary."

"Yeah…" Alice shuts her eyes tight. At this point, she's lost. But she has to do something, even if it's one of Marisa's terrible ideas. It's better than nothing. "If you want to help, umm, find all the p-pieces while I clean myself up."

"I can do that," Marisa says, pulling back and cupping Alice's face in her hands. For a second, Alice wonders if Marisa is going to kiss her, but she just grins and touches the tip of Alice's nose to her own. "Remember how good you are at this, okay? I got your back."

"Yeah," Alice says again. "…Thanks."

 

Marguerite comes in third in the competition.

Alice is so shocked she can barely speak. Sure, it isn't first place, but the fact that she placed at all in her very first competition is certainly something to be proud of. She ended up carefully gluing the delicate pieces of Marguerite's face back together in their original shape, then glossing over the eyes to make them look glassy and unfocused. The break marks clearly show, but only up close, making the doll look completely perfect at first glance. "A social commentary," she told the judges. "On the unrealistic standards of beauty in both the Victorian era and modern times."

"Hey," Marisa says, holding onto Alice's arm. "I told you you got this. See?"

"Yes, I know." Alice smiles. "Thank you for… well. You know. This." She gestures to Marguerite, held up in a wire stand on the exhibition table.

"C'mon, you can say it."

Alice sighs. "Fine… You were right." Seeing the look on Marisa's face, she can't resist amending her statement. "But only just this once."

"Uh huh." Marisa looks proud nonetheless. "Your doll's way cooler than the other ones anyway. You wanna go get pizza or something? I'm payin'. For the winner."

Alice's heart nearly stops. Is Marisa _asking her out_? "Perhaps the winner would prefer sushi," she says, trying to process her thoughts. She reaches forward to pick up Marguerite with her free arm, her eyes focusing solely on the little red ribbon pinned to the front of the doll's dress.

"Yeah, cool. Whatever you want, okay?" Marisa shifts a little, clearly unused to expressing this kind of sentiment. "You deserve it."

"Thank you," Alice says. And, before she can stop herself, she slips her fingers into Marisa's.

Marisa just laughs and squeezes Alice's hand back. "Ready whenever you are."


End file.
